


Screams in my Head

by knightinpinkunderwear



Series: Dexter Morgan get more therapy challenge [2]
Category: Dexter (TV)
Genre: Blood, Childhood Trauma, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Panic Attacks, Past Violence, Sexist Language, Trauma, Violent Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:35:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24869245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightinpinkunderwear/pseuds/knightinpinkunderwear
Summary: Dexter is out of the hospital and is helping out at Rita's as Paul brings back the kids from the circus.Paul is still suing Rita for assault and being quite rude.
Relationships: Debra Morgan & Dexter Morgan, Rita Bennett & Debra Morgan, Rita Bennett/Dexter Morgan
Series: Dexter Morgan get more therapy challenge [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1799461
Comments: 12
Kudos: 69





	Screams in my Head

He was only here because he'd promised Deb he wouldn't work. And technically helping Rita was not working.

And because he wanted to be where Rita needed him. Dealing with her problems seemed infinitely nicer than dealing with his.

And he much preferred helping Rita out to being stuck in his apartment with nothing to do to distract from the awful memories of that hotel room and from the boy in the blood. He needed to not be stuck in his own head right now.

And Rita said he made her feel safer. 

She made him feel safer now too, safe from the hotel room full of blood, safe from the boy, screaming in the blood.

Mostly he was at Rita's because she needed someone to be there with her when Paul came back with the kids. Even with the state-sponsored supervisor, she didn't feel safe around him. 

Not that Dexter blamed her, given what happened the other night, and the last time Paul had been out of prison. 

It probably felt worse now than a few weeks ago, because now the kids trusted Paul. Astor trusted him not to hurt Rita again. 

But he'd done it. And Dexter knew he'd do it again. Paul didn't seem like a good man. One could guess that from his rap sheet. Dexter was a bit annoyed that he still wanted to be a good father, however shallow that desire was. 

"Hey Dexy, I don't think your girlfriend is appreciating the gravity of this situation," Paul starts, the bandages on his hair look ridiculous, almost like the Captain Underpants books Cody was trying to get someone to read to him as a bedtime story. 

Dexter is washing the dishes from dinner. Trying to politely refuse the conversation he will never be willing to be part of with Paul. 

"If she loses this case, she'll lose the kids," Paul continues, not caring that Dexter would rather not talk to him or be a part of any conversation with him. 

"That won't happen," he bites out, his patience wearing thin. And he knows he should not have responded, Paul thrives off of responses.

Paul is the sort of person he'd like to set in plastic sheets, he seems like a complete asshole and perhaps even deserving of death. But he doesn't meet the code. He wasn't in for murder and he has a personal connection to Dexter. (And as much as he hates it, Astor and Cody will miss the jerk). 

"Never say 'won't' this world is all wills and wonders like I'm trying to show the kids, they are _my kids too_ , in case she's trying to forget," Paul is a complete and utter scumbag. There are few people that are rude and awful enough to make Dexter this angry. Maybe it's got a large part to do with what he did to Rita. She never deserved the mistreatment he'd done to her, no one did. And Rita was so much better than the rest of the hostile, hypocritical world.

Dexter packs up the remaining food into small Tupperware containers, staying silent and hoping the conversation will die. 

"Okay, I've made some mistakes," that would be an understatement, "-but I paid my time, and I'm even sober! All for those little glow sticks of love in the other room," Dexter wishes that Paul did not care about being a good father as much as he did, he certainly did not care about being a good husband.

It is blissfully silent for a minute or two. Dexter gets the plates and silverware into the dishwasher to dry. He's working on drying the glasses when Paul speaks again. 

"My heart beats for those two kids, so if you or that skinny bitch try to screw with what's mine, I don't care what-" 

Dexter puts his hands down forcefully, he will _not_ assault the man who is already suing Rita for the same charge. 

This was a horrible miscalculation. Dexter forgot he was still holding one of the glasses. It breaks on impact with the ledge of the sink. Large shards of broken glass bite into his palms.

There's blood on his hands now. His hands are filling with red and the smell of blood is everywhere. And he's back in that horrible hotel room. 

Red with blood from everywhere. He's dizzy from the smell of it, his hands are shaking, and the screams of a little boy are ringing in his head. 

He can't breathe. 

He tries to get the blood out of his hands, trying to rub it off of him, rub it away. He cuts himself deeper. And there's more blood that he's trying to push off of his skin. 

It's sticky and red and the smell. He distantly feels the remaining glass stuck in his palms cutting his forearms as he tries desperately to scrub the blood off of his skin where it pickles and sticks. Hot messy blood, everywhere. 

And he still can't breathe and the blood is clawing up his arms and he isn't on his feet anymore and the boy is still screaming.

And he _knows_ the boy is him, it has to be. How else could he remember the blood and how it smells and sticks and how his throat aches from crying and screaming? 

* * *

She moves when she hears the chime and clatter of breaking glass, almost running to find the source of the noise and dispel her concern. 

When she gets to the kitchen Dexter is on the floor, he's sitting, backed into the corner in the cabinets and shaking, scraping at his arms and tearing small cuts into them, there's glass in his palms. And he isn't breathing right. 

"I didn't do anything, I swear!" Paul claims, she believes him, not because she trusts him, but because of yesterday. 

Rita has never seen Dexter like this. He's choking and gasping and his eyes are far away and he looks terrified. 

"Dexter? Can you hear me?" She asks. 

He doesn't respond. Instead, he just chokes on a sob and scratches at his arms frantically, more blood wells up as he tries to rub it away.

His arms and palms are covered in blood, it looks almost like he's wearing long red gloves.

He flinches and shouts when she touches his shoulder, making this awful, ugly wheezing noise. He looks so pale and clammy. 

Rita fumbles to her feet, 

"Paul, can you hand me the phone?" 

"I didn't do-" Paul starts, there are so many things she can blame him for, this is not one of them. Dexter has his own issues, she'd figured that out, he just wasn't ready to talk about them yet. She pulls the first aid kit out from under the sink. 

"I know you didn't do this Paul, hand me the phone," Rita is proud of herself for how even her tone sounds, she is so worried. Her ex-husband is here only days after he broke in, he's suing her for the kids, Dexter isn't breathing right and he's bleeding. 

Debra answers in two rings and Rita can stop pacing (she doesn't remember starting). 

"Rita?"

"What did you do to calm Dexter down yesterday?" 

Debra swears in a bit of colorful language, "is he having another panic attack?" she asks.

"Yes, he broke a glass and he's bleeding," 

Debra swears again, loudly. "-I held his hand and he calmed down a little, hold on, I'm coming over," 

"Thank you, Debra," Rita doesn't bother to hand the phone back to Paul, she hangs up and put it down on the counter, kneeling on the tile floor and slowly approaching. She takes hold of one of his wrists, gently. 

Dexter hiccups out a sob and sighs a little, his breathing starts getting better, but it's still so shaky and shallow, at least he isn't wheezing. His eyes are still so glassy and far away, it hurts her heart. Rita knew he had something going on that he didn't want to talk about yet, she just didn't like how much it hurt and frightened him, and how he didn't feel comfortable talking to her about it.

"Dad aren't you coming for a story?"

It's Astor, she's standing in the hall. Paul looks at her then at Rita. 

"Go ahead, just hand me the paper towels," Rita says, Astor looks over, confused, then she sees Dexter and at least some of the blood. Thank goodness Rita is settled in front of Dexter, there was just a little too much blood for her to be comfortable with Astor seeing all of it.

"Mommy, what's wrong with Dexter?" Astor asks from the door as Paul brings over the trash bin and the room of paper towels. 

"Daddy said something mean and he shouldn't have and Dexter dropped a glass, but he's gonna be okay," Paul explained, sounding more truthful than when he spoke directly to her. At least he didn't want to lie to their daughter. 

"Something happened to Dexter?!" Cody shouts, halfway in his spiderman pajamas, running in, colliding with Paul's legs. 

"Astor, Cody, how about you get your bedtime story from Dad, I've got to help Dexter clean up the glass."

"He's going to need lots of bandaids! Mommy, I can get the bandaids!" Cody shouts, somehow already bounced back from his sugar crash. How he could do that was beyond Rita. Five-year-olds had more energy in their little bodies than any adult she knew.

"It's okay, buster, I think mommy and her friend can handle it,"

"Mommy's friend?"

"It's just Debra, and I don't want you getting out of bed after you get your bedtime stories!"

"I can have more than one!?" Cody shouts, Paul chuckles.

"Yes, sure, why not?" Rita finds herself agreeing, at least this way the kids are more likely to not wander back in before the blood and the glass is cleaned up. She isn't sure she wants them to see Dexter like this, she knows he won't want them to see him like this, he doesn't like to worry them. He wants to just be the fun guy dating mom.

Rita holds his wrist, gently rubbing circles on the back of his hand with her thumb. She couldn't hold his hand normally, with all the glass wedged into his palms. 

It takes Rita a minute or two to flip Dexter's hand over so that she can see his right palm. The back of his hand is resting gently in her palm as she starts to pull the largest glass shards out with tweezers from the first aid kit. 

Rita tries her best to do it as slowly and gently as possible, not wanting to startle Dexter in this awful state he's ready in. She doesn't want him to go back to the way he'd been when she'd first come in. She doesn't know if she could stand to see Dexter like that again. 

He was so sweet and patient, and decent, she didn't like to see him suffering and afraid like that. 

She's moved on to the smaller pieces of glass, which are much harder to find and remove, when the knock comes. 

It's Debra, she has a distinctive style of knocking in quick succession then a beat of rest then more abuse against the door. 

"It's open," Rita calls and Debra comes in. 

Her hair is a mess and she slams the door shut behind her, running to join them in the kitchen. 

She swears again. "He's still out of it," it isn't a question, it doesn't need to be. 

"Do you know how to get him back to the present?" Rita asks as Debra turns over and holds his left arm in place so that Rita can start getting the glass out of his other hand. 

Dexter sits there like a limp doll, with glassy eyes and shaky breathing. 

"Wish I knew," Debra answers, sounding as helpless as Rita feels. 

* * *

The screams are quieter. But they're still there. There's a whirring noise too and with the screams, it terrifies him. He can smell the blood still. But he's not surrounded by red. 

Someone is holding his hands, he is safe. Or he will be. Soon. 

The screams echo, bouncing over and off of each other. He wants to cry. He feels like he needs to. 

The boy screams _"Mommy!"_

Dexter can smell the blood. Hear the screams. Hear the whirring and the nasty wet sounds. But the red has gone away. 

The blood is on him, in his hands, sticking to his skin, but the red isn't consuming the world. He isn't seeing the red behind his eyelids. 

_"Not in front of my baby!"_ A woman screams, and Dexter _has to_ cry, the boy that he was/is does too, cries and screams. He doesn't know why, but the screams in his head fade into whining sobs, and those fade into the ache in his throat as he cries along. 

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't let him frame Paul, I really didn't like it and there are plenty of other bad choices Dexter can make.


End file.
